


Wildflowers

by Talullah



Series: Westernesse [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: Mairen and Yávien, Yávien and Mairen, that had always been so...
Relationships: Mairen (Tolkien)/Yávien (Tolkien)
Series: Westernesse [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/296957
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7
Collections: Legendarium Ladies April 2020





	Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Himring](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himring/gifts).



> [Written for the Legendarium Ladies April prompts for April 11th.](https://legendariumladiesapril.tumblr.com/post/615135892264435712/legendarium-ladies-april-prompts-for-april-11)   
>  **General Prompt: Sacrifices**   
>  **Picture Prompt: Yellowstone Wildflowers - Regeneration After a Forest Fire, by[WanderingYew2](https://www.flickr.com/photos/8820084@N02)**   
>    
>  **Poetry Prompt: Tigers, by Eliza Griswold**   
>  _What are we now but voices  
>  who promise each other a life  
> neither one can deliver  
> not for lack of wanting  
> but wanting won’t make it so.  
> We cling to a vine  
> at the cliff’s edge.  
> There are tigers above  
> and below. Let us love  
> one another and let go. _

**Armenelos, 388 S.A.**

Mairen and Yávien, Yávien and Mairen, that had always been so, always together whenever fate brought them close. The first time they had met, Yávien was pink and plump, one month old and Mairen was already a gangly thing of almost seven years of age. She ran to her aunt, who had always intimidated her a little, and stood there looking at that precious thing with bright blue eyes, making spit bubbles at her. Mairen made a few spit bubbles of her own, until her mother noticed and sent her away, thoroughly mortified. But Mairen could have sworn that Yávien had smiled at her spit bubbles. And that had been the beginning.

After that, whenever they met, they were inseparable. Nolondil wisely had chosen to settle in Hyarnustar, southern and warm and quite far away from the court where his brother was to shine and take his rightful place at due time. Yávien lived there, growing up running amidst the vines, scraping her knees, dreaming of the day that she would travel throughout the whole of the land.

Amandil, second hand to their father and grandfather, loyal to no fault, stayed in Armenelos, building and learning the art of ruling and Mairen learning the ways of a proper lady of the court, while longing to be by the sea and dance in her own way, forgetting the strict form of the court modes.

But the brothers were true friends and met often, not just on the remembered days of Erukyermë, Erulaitalë, and Eruhantalë, and their daughters were always eager for those days when they would meet in Nindámos for a few weeks in the summer, and for the grape harvest, when Amandil always sent Mairen to her uncle’s, or the times when Yávien was invited to Armenelos for a few weeks in the middle of Winter, and sometimes there would be a dusting of snow on the foothills of the Meneltarma, and Amandil would send them there to play.

The seven year gap never mattered for them. Mairen was older but she was the youngest child of a family of boys. Her life was full of rules and properness. Yávien was younger, but she was the oldest sister of two boys and had always gone after her father to the vineyard and the farm, ignoring her mother’s pleas to have her learn embroidery and lace.

Mairen delighted in Yávien’s free spirit and embarked, even if fearfully, in all adventures offered by her cousin, and Yávien was fascinated with Mairen’s understanding of the world, the perfection of her music and dancing, the quality of her dresses, the science she knew, the books she had read.

It was Mairen who showed Yávien the beauty of words and it was Mairen who read her first poem. And it was Yávien who first braided Mairen’s hair with daisies, and incited her to dance naked under the full moon in the hot Summer nights of Nindámos, free as the wind.

“Crazy like our aunt, the witch,” Yávien had said that night, brimming with pride, as she herself tried to follow Mairen’s gracious movements.

Mairen had bursted out laughing. “Do you mean you, me, us both?”

“Of course, us both! Look at you, beautiful like a maia from the West! Look at me, a hen trying to pass for an egret.”

They had laughed again, but Mairen, always proper, had chided Yavien. “You are not like a hen at all and aunt Tindómiel is certainly not a witch.”

“She most certainly is,” Yávien had countered. “She has told me herself. I think she was trying to lure me into her… thing.”

Later, when they had come back to the room they insisted on sharing every Summer, so that they could always be together, still wet from their night swim, Mairen had asked, “Do you think anybody saw us? What would father say?”

Yávien chortled. “He would say that I am a bad influence - a terrible influence.” She turned to face Mairen grinning and walking backwards. “And he would be right, of course. But I think it’s the maiar blood in us, how little it might be left. Aunt Tindómiel, you, me, all crazy. The boys seem to be so responsible and boring, though.”

Mairen thought of her two elder brothers, already married and in positions of responsibility and her, still wandering from music lessons to dance lessons, unable to choose a husband among the men that her father and brothers suggest because the only person she wanted to spend all her time with, forever and ever, was Yávien. 

Her smile died and she started to change, quiet and suddenly very tired.

Yávien held her by the waist, from behind and rested her chin on Mairen’s shoulder.

“Tell me.”

Mairen shook her head and with a kind gesture, took Yávien’s hands from her waist, turning to face her. “Let’s go to sleep. Tomorrow we can talk.”

~~~

The next day there was a festival down the fisher’s village and they went there with Eärendur and his wife, who never has approved of their giggling and antiks but who came down to the family’s Summer house to spend a few weeks of rest by the sea. 

At the small port, there was music and the scent of delicious food in the air. The boats were decorated with colourful cloth banners, that rested quietly on the lines but once they went out to the sea, started flapping madly under the breeze, creating a festival of bright colour. Yávien and Mairen were both dressed in white, like everyone else, and sat very close to one another, laughing at the improper jokes of a very young girl who never took her eyes off of Yávien.

When they returned home, bellies full with fresh fish cooked in all kinds of imaginable ways and they skins reddened by the sun, they had to hear a sermon from Eärendur about the shamelessness of their mingling, no doubt instigated by his wife, who nodded at every word.

“Well, cousin, I thank you very much for your advice, and I will certainly give your words the thought that they deserve,” Yávien managed to insert somewhere between two sentences. “But I see that you are tired, as is your lady wife, so I beg you not to exert yourself anymore over this matter. A good evening to the both of you.”

She left the room, dragging Mairen by the hand upstairs. They ran into their room and threw themselves on the bed, burying their faces on the pillows so that their laughter could not be heard. 

After a good long bath, Mairen brushed Yávien’s hair. “You will have more freckles, after today.”

Yávien laughs. “Mother says I am a hopeless case.”

“That girl, the one with the really deep tan and beautiful white teeth, she could not take her eyes off of you, today.”

Yávien smiled at Mairen, through the silver mirror. “I noticed. She was very pretty and terribly cheeky but she could not have been more than twelve. Where did she get that from?”

“I’m not quite sure she was just looking at you admiringly, as a girl looks up to a grown woman. If she was a boy, I’d be worried…”

Yávien laughed. “You might be worried all the same. I mean no, she is way too young. But,” Yávien stopped to turn and face Mairen, taking the brush from her hands, “there is something about me that you should probably know.”

Mairen smiled and held Yávien in her arms as she rose from her seat. “I know, little one, I’ve always known.”

Yávien deepened their embrace and they stood there until their breaths evened out to the same rhythm.

“You are my favourite family member, you know that?” she said at last.

Mairen laughed. “Even more than aunt Tindómiel?”

Yávien laughed too. “She’s crazy. I love that. But you are always my favourite.”

Mairen kissed her cousin’s hair. “You’ve grown up into such a fine woman, Yávien. So beautiful, so in love with life. There is more light and love and laughter in a day spent with you, than in many people’s lifetimes.”

Yávien, of a sudden, kissed Mairen on the lips. 

Mairen did not kiss her back but she did not retreat either.

Yávien drew back, after a moment.

“I am sorry, Mairen,” she said, lowering her eyes. “I thought… I mean, I didn’t think…”

Mairen shook her head and pressed her hands on Yávien’s shoulders, to keep her from pulling away.

“I love you, Yávien. I would gladly spend my whole life following you from one adventure to the other. We would have so much fun, so much joy and laughter and music and poems and friends high and low.”

“But…” 

Mairen sighed. “But there are two things. Your beauty moves me, but I am not sure I feel desire as you do. I would not want to kiss you with affection and curiosity when you would be kissing me with passionate love.”

Yávien’s eyes grew brighter and her voice was tight when she asked. “The other thing?”

Mairen sighed again. “This might be our last Summer together. Father is arranging my marriage.”

“You’re twenty-four! In our family people live for such long years - I don’t see the hurry.” Yávien drew away, barely containing her ire.

“Yes, but Father… he did not say it clearly, but I think he is worried about my reputation, or some such. And it is a convenient time to strengthen alliances.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“No. And I am not sure I want to know. I wish I was free, like the fisher-women down there…”

“But you are.” Yávien cupped Mairen’s face with her hands. “You can do whatever you want. Look at great-aunt Tindómiel, who never married and some say, takes lovers among the Druédain, where she likes to spend all her time. And Aunt Vardilmë, who left her husband and lives alone with three dozen cats, perfectly happy.”

“I am not you, Yávien, or them. You could take on the world…”

Yávien dropped her hands. “I want to do it with you by my side. Cousins, friends, sisters, lovers or not, it doesn’t matter.”

Mairen sighed and started undressing. “It’s time for bed, now. You know that I am not as free as you are, and it is not just because I am afraid of the consequences. I am loyal to my father, and to great grandfather, and I will not break their hearts or cause them embarrassment.”

Yávien stood still for a moment, looking at Mairen coldly as she had not ever done in her life. But the dejected look on her cousin’s face was too much for her to bear with anger.

“Fine,” she said, sighing and moving away, to the window. “It’s getting too dark, we should light candles.”

Behind her, Mairen busied herself making the room ready for the night.

They did not talk about that evening for the remainder of their time in Nindámos. As if they had agreed on it, they erased the incident and laughed harder, danced harder, spent more time in the sea and walked more often through the fields, drank more of the sweet wine Yávien had brought from her father’s farm. But secretly, Yávien listened to Mairen’s poems, in search of a clue to the mystery of her cousin, and furiously wrote her own, to assuage the torment inside her. She was certainly that Mairen had not told her all. And secretly, Mairen left her what hints she could, hoping that she had not made a mistake, a terrible mistake.

~~~

Summer ended and the next time the two cousins saw each other was when Nolondil took his whole family to Armenelos, that Autumn, to celebrate the Eruhantalë with his brothers and sister and their families, as they always did. There were balls and many happy gatherings and on the surface everything was the same between the cousins. Yávien almost believed that it had all been a dream as she climbed up the Meneltarma holding Mairen’s hand as she had always done ever since she was strong enough to go by her own foot.

But by Spring, when Erukyermë came and the family gathered once again, Mairen’s smile of greeting for Yávien had a tinge of sadness. Nolondil and his family arrived late in the day, so Yávien did not have the opportunity to talk with Mairen that evening, but on the next day, she rose with the sun and searched for her cousin. She waited while Mairen dressed and ate, trying to contain her impatience, but soon they rode off to the fields west of Armenelos, and then beyond, to where the forest started and the wild flowers brought by Spring carpeted the ground.

Yávien was the first to break the silence, as they sat on a blanket. “You are different.”

Mairen nodded. “Yes.”

Yávien waited, as Mairen filled her chest, then exhaled. “It is hard to explain it all, but I will try.”

Again, Yávien waited, a sense of dread turning her hands to ice. 

“I shall be married on the Erulaitalë. Father is going to announce it during the celebrations, probably tomorrow.”

Yávien sprung to her feet, but tried to control her breathing before speaking. 

“Shall I be happy for you?” she finally asked, mustering all her strength to remain calm.

Mairen shook her head. “I don’t know. I hope so. You and I know that I was raised for this…”

“At least is it a good alliance,” Yávien asked bitterly.

Mairen rose and tried to take Yávien’s hands in hers, but Yávien stepped back.

“I suppose I am jealous,” she said. “And angry. And very certain that this is not what you want to do with your life.”

Mairen assented, lowering her eyes. “Yes. I would rather spend my life by the seaside, going on adventures with you, or staying home, while I waited for your return, working on my dance, my poems, the sketching… but this is not what Father wants for me or what he needs from me. Or Elendil. My brother will one day be king. I need to care for the both of them as they have cared for me, all of my life.”

“Do you love this man you are to marry?” Yávien asked, knowing that arguing with Mairen about duty would be fruitless.

“I saw him once.” Mairen hesitated. “It is you that I love. Yávien, it was always you.”

“But you said, last Summer… you said you were not certain.” 

“I lied.” She took Yávien’s hands in hers. “To the both of us, if it makes any difference to you. I wanted to make it easier for us both.”

Yávien shook her head. “You had never lied to me.”

“No.”

Yávien stood in the glade, feeling the warmth of the ride dissipating from her body into the fresh Spring air, feeling, without need to touch her, Mairen trembling like the young leaves about their heads. The raging turmoil inside her, the pain causing a knot on her throat so tight she might faint, and Mairen there, her eyes bright with tears. All the dreams that she had nurtured for years, against reason and even after Mairen’s rejection were finally shattered. 

“What are we now but voices who promise each other a life neither one can deliver, not for lack of wanting but wanting won’t make it so,” she said.

Mairen’s first tear rolled down her cheek. “That poem… you remember.”

“I remember everything that you ever wrote to me, that you ever told me, that we ever did.” Yávien realized that warm tears had started to roll from her eyes too.

Mairen took a step forward and wrapped her arms around her, cradling her head with a hand, as she had always done, comforting even when she, herself, was in need of comfort. They embraced for a very long time, until both had found some measure of peace.

Then Mairen drew away, dropping her hands to Yávien’s waist.

“I can offer you nothing of what you want for the future. But I do love you, will always love you.”

Yávien looked into her eyes, trying to understand what Mairen was trying to say, fondly cursing the way her cousin was always oblique in her way of expressing herself.

But this time, Mairen did not wait for Yávien to decode her meaning.

“I would kiss you here, now.” 

Yávien looked over Mairen’s shoulder, drinking in the way the sunlight livened the coloring of the bed of flowers, squinting to absorb the intensity of the blue sky and white clouds above.

“But I would not do it if it caused you pain,” Mairen whispered in her ear, drawing closer again. 

Yávien knew there was no decision to be made.

“You cannot love me in any way without causing me pain, Mairen, dearest.”

Mairen let her arms drop and pulled back, but Yávien stopped her.

“But I would not forsake your love, even now, not for any peace.”

Mairen dared smile. “Peace…”

“Peace is not all that superb,” Yávien said. “Let us love one another and let go.”

Finis  
Abril 2020

**Author's Note:**

> The title is in reference to both girls and to the picture prompt, and at the end, there are two lines of speech taken directly from the poem.
> 
> Yávien as a traveler has become my head canon after reading Himring’s lovely “[A Love Song (Imladris Collection of Numenorean Songs No. 72A)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4363892) and the other works of her [Yávien series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/525097). While she is not a traveler yet here, on this story, she it is implied that she will be one day, and there's a small reference to the fisherwoman that she will one day meet on Himring's story.
> 
> Followed by [The Light That Forms Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738458).


End file.
